


Free-For-All

by wordsinbetween



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 13,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinbetween/pseuds/wordsinbetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of all my short little Barisi ficlets and drabbles that I've written over the last few months. Lots of fluff. Some heartache. More domestic fluff. Some bar shenanigans. Anything and everything imaginable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One at the Bar

Considering the fact that it’s a Wednesday night, Sonny’s honestly surprised at how crowded the bar is, wishing the music were loud enough to drown the constant chatter out. His annoyance quickly grows as people continually bump into his table on their way back from the bar, drunkenly letting their beer spill all over the floor. All he wanted was a quick round or two before heading up to his apartment to sleep for the next twelve hours. 

Their most recent case finally wrapped up today, jury delivering their final verdict and although the guy’s gonna spend the next decade in prison, Sonny isn’t quite in a celebratory mood. These big, complicated cases are always drawn out for weeks at a time, and it just makes him tired. Atleast Benson gave him the morning off for once.

He’s about to give up and go home when some college kid (who doesn’t exactly look legal, but Sonny doesn’t really care tonight) slams hard enough into the table’s edge that it sends Sonny’s drink skidding across the surface. Luckily he catches it before his eight dollars gets dumped all over the floor, and his glare is enough to send the kid stumbling away without a word. _Alright, that’s it, I’m done,_ Sonny thinks, raising his glass to drain it but then his eyes catch a familiar flash of color leaning against the bar.

Barba was definitely not on the list of people he expected to see tonight, but there he is, in the same suit he wore in court only a few hours ago, though he seems to have ditched the waistcoat and loosened his bright blue tie a bit. Sonny swallows the rest of his beer, tries to get the thought of how good the other man looks out of his mind. Deciding he can do with one more round, he stands and makes his way towards the bar. Barba’s grinning at the bartender and laughing at whatever the guy just said and Sonny bites down on the stupid flash of jealousy he feels. He slides onto the empty barstool and answers the bartender’s raised eyebrow with a nod, leaning forward on his elbows and relishing in the fact that he can feel Barba’s gaze on him.

“Detective,” Barba greets him after Sonny’s beer arrives, and he smiles at the amused tone.

“Counselor,” he says, turning his head and smirking at Barba as he takes a quick glance to appreciate how good he looks in the dim lighting. Sonny is growing really fond of that damn blue tie.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Barba says, taking a sip of his scotch before setting it back down, finger tracing the rim of the glass. _Oh, for fuck’s sake._

“You’re in my neighborhood, I could say the same to you,” he says instead of his last thought. “How about we not talk about that case, alright? I’m here to drink away my problems, not think about them.”

“I can do that,” Barba says, voice a little rougher than usual and Sonny does his best to ignore it.

A few alternating rounds later (three? four? he thinks this is beer number seven) and he’s not so much resting on the bar anymore as he is half draped across it, leaning so closely into Barba’s space that their arms rub with every stupid hand gesture Sonny makes. Which honestly happens even more than usual when he’s had a few drinks. Barba hasn’t shifted away even once, though, eyes locked on his and that stupid small smile on his lips as he listens to Sonny rattle away. He’s ditched his jacket, draped over the back of his chair and Sonny can’t help that his eyes dart down to track over the silky looking suspenders resting on his shoulders. Barba’s tie is even looser now, the top button of his white shirt undone and it’s so distracting that Sonny loses track of what he was saying.

Sonny swallows against the sudden dryness in his throat as Barba grins at the sudden silence, turning even more in his chair, thumb fucking _caressing_ the empty glass sitting on the bar. Sonny realizes he’s still got a hand just kinda hanging out in the air between them and when he lets it fall, suddenly it’s resting on top of Barba’s thigh, and the heat that immediately radiates up into his palm is way more than he can handle right now.

“Um,” is all he can think to say and yeah, he’s not the most graceful right now apparently, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Barba shifts forward even more and suddenly there’s a hand traveling up his leg and coming to rest on his hip. His fingers involuntarily tighten on Barba’s thigh and it’s intoxicating being this close.

“How about I get this round,” Barba says and Sonny can feel hot breath against his mouth, making it so hard not to just lean forward. “And you can go wait for me outside.”

He doesn’t trust himself to find his voice right now so he nods, maybe a little too frantically because Barba laughs at him, eyes dropping to Sonny’s lips for a second before he leans back, and Sonny has to stop himself from whining when he sees Barba bite the corner of his lip. He’s so done for.


	2. The One With the Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Sonny's glasses were amazing in Undercover Mother.

Sonny’s phone flashes next to him on the couch, message quickly scrolling across the top.

_Is this snow ever going to stop?_

He chuckles and twists his neck to look out the window, curtains still drawn open even though the sun went down over an hour ago. He’s probably losing half the heat his radiator is struggling to pump into the apartment, but Sonny likes to watch the snow. He’s not fond of working it, but from the comfort of his couch, it’s a nice sight. 

He’s about to reply when Barba beats him to the punch with another message. _I’m on my way there now._ He taps out a reply and smiles at the mental image of Barba angrily trudging through the February snowstorm. 

He runs a hand through his hair, still damp from the hot shower he’d needed after running around the city most of the day in the cold. There’s two books open on the coffee table and another on his lap, random stacks of notes taking up pretty much the whole couch as he tries to study. Now that he knows he’ll hear the front door open any minute now, his focus is pretty much shot but eventually he forces himself to pay attention again.

Barba walks in ten minutes later, black coat covered in snow and face red from the wind. Sonny shuts the book on his lap with a smile, leaning his head back against the couch as Barba takes off his coat and unravels the scarf from around his neck. Sonny gathers up his notes and tosses them on the coffee table, making room next to him on the couch, rolling his eyes as Barba walks over and immediately grabs the blanket off the side. Wrapping it around himself, he sinks down next to Sonny, eyeing the mess of study materials in front of them without a word. Sonny’s not exactly the most organized at times, but atleast he’s willing to admit it.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Sonny finds himself watching the snow continue its onslaught outside. Slowly, the shoulder pressed against his starts to warm up and he feels Barba shift until he’s pressed more firmly against Sonny’s side. He smiles and looks back over when he feels a cheek press against the side of his arm, and finds he’s being stared at.

“What?” He asks, not quite sure whether he’s worried or amused by the intensely questioning look he’s on the receiving end of.

“What are you wearing?” Barba says, eyes softening and talking quietly in the way he only ever does at home.

“Oh,” Sonny remembers the glasses on his face, forgetting he even put them on. “My contacts were bothering me so I took them out when I got home. I can take them off.”

When he reaches up to take them off, Barba grabs his wrist and tugs it back down until it’s resting on his thigh, warm fingers still wrapped around his skin.

“No, don’t,” he says, before looking away and down at their hands together. Then, almost too quietly to make out, he hears “I like them,” muffled against his shirt.

Sonny doesn’t even try to keep the grin from spreading across his face, perfectly happy to leave his glasses on, and drops his shoulder down until he’s hiding his smile in Barba’s hair, their fingers tangled together on his lap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another post-Undercover Mother one because I loved it.

Barba’s still really mad – no, not mad, frustrated – about the stupid Super Bowl undercover op, and he’s about to start ranting about it, wanting to know why Sonny didn’t even drop him a hint that something was going down with the case tonight. But then he walks into the apartment and there’s Sonny on the couch, ice pack pressed to his forehead with all the lights in the room turned off except the dimmed corner lamp. He walks over and frowns, not an ounce of frustration left when Sonny squints up at him, tired and worn out and clearly hurting.

Barba lifts up the ice pack and winces at the bruising that’s already starting to show, the surrounding skin red from the cold ice that’s been pressed to it all night. 

“Are you okay?” He says, voice soft in the darkness.

“Yeah,” Sonny just sighs, his eyes falling shut again. “That Murphy guy really packs a punch.”

“It doesn’t help that that punch was the butt of a gun,” Barba tries to smile but it’s gone immediately when he sees Sonny wince at the volume of his voice. “Did you take anything? It’s your head, isn’t it?”

“No,” and Sonny actually manages to look apologetic, shrugging slightly as he tries to look back up at Barba, squinting again even though it’s practically pitch black in the room. Barba rolls his eyes and goes to the kitchen for water and some pills for Sonny to take, returning to his side and nudging him softly until he’s sitting up, no room for debate. He’s taking the pills, and he’s taking them now.

When the glass is empty and sitting on the coffee table, Barba walks over to the lamp and turns it off, letting the dim lights of the city outside guide him back to the couch. He doesn’t meet any resistance when he lies down and tugs on the other man’s sleeve until Sonny’s laying back against his chest, ice pack tossed on the table too because it’s mostly melted anyways. Eventually the tension starts to ease out of Sonny’s shoulders and Barba can feel the rise of his chest grow slow and steady as he falls asleep. Barba just tightens his arms around Sonny and presses a kiss to the top of his head, lying there until the sounds of the city and soft breathing lull him to sleep, too.


	4. The One Where Buttons Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no reason for this.

The first time Sonny is a little too eager and accidentally snaps a button off Barba’s shirt, sending it flying. Sonny can hear it scatter across the floor, coming to rest somewhere out of sight. He grimaces and he can feel Barba sigh, breath hot against Sonny’s neck.

“Sorry,” Sonny mutters, “I’ll fix it, I pro–” But Barba kisses him again before he can finish his sentence, roughly pulling at Sonny’s own tucked-in shirt. Suddenly it’s all the way undone up to his collar and being shoved off over his shoulders. 

“See,” Barba says against his lips, “That’s how you do it without ruining the shirt.” 

Sonny feels the hot flush travel up his neck at his words because _fuck_ that’s not the response he expected, but he really, _really_ likes it. So he just leans forward for another kiss and makes a point of undoing every button that’s left with extra care, until Barba’s grinding against him and trying to do it himself. Sonny just bats his hands away and grins against his mouth.


	5. The One in Miami (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shorter bits of my beach!fic, somewhat in order.

They could totally go to the New York con, that’s right down the road, and Sonny bought the tickets weeks ago. But then the whole squad ends up working overtime that entire week hunting down a serial rapist, but by Friday night they still haven’t got the guy so there’s no way Sonny’s getting even a half day off on Saturday. Barba feels bad about it, because even though he never really want to go, Sonny’s been looking forward to it ever since he bought the tickets. He tries to tell Barba he’s not disappointed, but he is, Barba can see it in the slump of his shoulders as they sit around on the couch that night, Sonny endlessly flipping the channels and clearly annoyed and exhausted. 

So Barba picks up the laptop from the coffee table and starts browsing, looking over when Sonny turns off the tv with a groan and drops the remote onto the couch next to them. It bounces off the cushion and lands on the floor, smacking against one of the coffee table’s legs with a _crack_. Barba grimaces but doesn’t say anything, knows that he won’t get a very constructive reply when Sonny’s this tired and fed up. 

“I’m going to bed,” Sonny tells him, standing up and walking around the back of the couch. He stops once he’s standing behind Barba, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple. “What’s that?” he asks, looking at the laptop’s screen.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, go get some sleep,” Barba says, smiling when Sonny leans back again and runs his hands across his shoulders, heading towards the bedroom. 

“Are you coming to bed soon?” Sonny says quietly after a minute, his voice suddenly absent of all tension. Barba turns around his seat to look at Sonny, who’s standing there with his forehead resting on the doorframe, smiling that stupid, small exhausted smile that he knows Barba can never resist.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Sonny nods, turning to make his way into the dark bedroom. Barba looks back at the computer screen, quickly bookmarking the page he’s on before shutting the laptop down and setting it back on the table. 

There’s no way Sonny’s gonna turn down a weekend in Miami, and after they’re done at the silly convention Sonny will no doubt love, Barba’s gonna drag his ass down to the beach.

 

-

 

“You know, you’d have probably been more comfortable in jeans,” Sonny says. 

Barba scowls, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his slacks to no avail, tugging at the uncomfortable airplane seatbelt around his waist. Sonny just smiles at his obvious displeasure and leans on the armrest between them, chin propped up on his palm. They haven’t even taken off yet and Barba can’t stop fidgeting. It’s gonna be a long two hours.

Sonny can fall asleep during any flight, a skill he’d perfected years ago, but the second they start to taxi across the runway before take-off, Barba’s already obnoxiously fiddling with the in-flight emergency pamphlet. Sonny rolls his eyes. Apparently he’s not going to be napping this time. When the plane accelerates and pushes them back into their seats, he reaches over and takes Barba’s hand in his own, their tangled fingers coming to rest on Sonny’s lap.

He ignores the death grip on his hand as he watches Barba studiously ignore the window, staring straight at the seatback in front of him and muttering under his breath in Spanish. Boy, when he said he wasn’t exactly the greatest at flying, he sure wasn’t kidding. Sonny runs his thumb over the back of Barba’s hand, who must sense Sonny’s about to try and apologize for dragging him out here (up here?) because he turns and tries his hardest to smile.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” he says, but his smile wavers when they hit an air pocket and the plane lurches a little. “It’s just the taking off and landing part I don’t like.”

Sonny doesn’t quite believe him, but he smiles back and doesn’t let go of his hand the rest of the flight.

 

-

 

“What?” Sonny smirks, leaning down to take a cold beer from their cooler. “See something you like?”

Barba lifts one shoulder in a half shrug, smiling as he finishes off his drink, setting the empty bottle down in the sand next to his chair. “Perhaps,” he says, crossing his feet and leaning back, body warm and loose in the sunshine. 

Sonny laughs again and opens his bottle, tossing the cap into the cooler and taking a long drink. Barba really doesn’t mind watching the way his throat moves, the way it’s starting to shine with sweat. Then Sonny takes a step forward and leans over to press their lips together, and Barba can taste the beer and the sweat and loves how warm the sun has made Sonny’s lips and it’s so hard to not protest when he pulls away. 

“I’m gonna go take a dip, hold this, will ya?” And then Barba’s holding onto his beer, the bottle’s cold sweat running over his fingers, and Sonny’s jogging away towards the water. He slows to a walk as the waves begin to run over his feet, and Barba can see the dopey, childish grin that spreads across his face. He wades in until the water’s up to his waist, and then apparently decides ‘who cares’ because suddenly he’s underwater, hands running through his wet hair once he’s surfaced again. _Yes_ , Barba thinks. _I do like what I see.  
_

A few minutes later Sonny’s back at his side, scrubbing a towel over his face, water droplets on his shoulders and chest already starting to disappear in the warm weather. His trunks are clinging to his thighs, and Barba doesn’t even bother to try and look away. Instead he just stares away, taking another drink from the beer in his hand. 

“Hey!” Sonny says after he’s brought the towel away from his face. “I asked you to hold it, not drink it!” He reaches out and takes the bottle back, cool ocean water dripping off Sonny’s arms onto Barba’s bare stomach and yeah, going to the beach was a very, very good idea.


	6. The One in Miami (pt 2)

The Friday morning they’re scheduled to depart, Sonny’s running around the apartment in a frenzy, asking Barba three separate times if he remembered to print out the tickets. 

“You know we’re only going for three days, right?” Barba says from the couch, his bag already packed and waiting by the front door. Sonny just waves a hand in his general direction and disappears back into the bedroom. Barba glances at the clock and sighs when sees the time. They really do need to get going soon. He’s not overly fond of sitting around in airports for hours, but he’s even less fond of rushing to the gate with only minutes to spare. 

“Sonny, we really–” he starts to say, standing up and unplugging his tablet from its charger, slipping it into the backpack they’re sharing as their carry-on.

“I know, I’m ready,” Sonny interrupts him, appearing back in the living room and setting his bag down next to Barba’s. He grabs his jacket laying across the back of the couch and tucks into the backpack, shrugging when Barba raises his eyebrow. _It’s June,_ says the look he’s getting. _You know we’re going to Florida, right?_ “I get cold on flights,” Sonny says, smiling because he’s getting excited, even if they’re spending most of the afternoon at 30,000 feet. 

By the time they make it across the city to JFK, Sonny’s a barely concealed ball of excitement, and honestly it’s not easing Barba’s nerves any. They’re standing in line at security, moving forward at a snail’s pace because TSA likes to take their goddamn time, and Barba can’t stop checking his watch every other minute. He just wants this flight to be over. 

They finally make it to the front of the security line 45 minutes before their plane is scheduled to take off. Sonny goes first, giving the short little TSA lady his brightest little smile and Barba has to roll his eyes, though luckily she seems a little nicer than the other hard-faced security officers when Barba steps up with his ID. When he joins Sonny in line at the x-ray machines, he grimaces when he has to take off his shoes. This is the worst part. He really doubts they vacuum this floor every night.

They don’t always advertise their relationship per se, but Barba doesn’t mind the way Sonny lays his arm over the back of the chair he’s in while they wait for the call to board. He just presses his thigh against Sonny’s and smiles at the way Sonny’s nervousness has clearly turned into pure excitement ever since they walked in the airport. So Barba lets himself lean forward and press a quick kiss to the side of Sonny’s mouth, loving the way it makes the blush rise up his neck, grin spreading across his face. Then a voice is calling their flight number over the intercom and suddenly they’re boarding, and then they’re rising, up into the air and leveling out and cruising.

Thirty minutes into the flight, Barba’s finally relaxed enough to let go of Sonny’s hand, taking his tablet out of their bag and glancing over the case files he downloaded onto it last night. He promised Sonny that neither of them would work on anything official this weekend, but there’s really nothing else to do while they’re both stuck on airplane for the next three hours, so he tries to read over the details of the case atleast a few more times. Then, of course, because he has the best luck, the guy in the seat in front of him decides it’s time to recline. _All_ the way.

Barba glares at the back of the man’s head, angrily putting his tray table back in its stupid upright position, the tablet’s screen turning black as it idles on his lap. When Sonny suddenly reaches over and takes it from him, it’s not like Barba has much room to protest. 

“Come on,” Sonny says, clearly trying to keep from smirking back at him, “I’m almost done with this level.”

“You’ve been stuck on it for two days,” Barba says, but he lets Sonny keep the tablet, opening up the stupid Sudoku app and staring down at the expert level that’s been stumping him for days.

Sonny swats away his hand the first time he reaches for the screen, but after the fourth try Sonny finally lets him press the bottom left corner square, grinning when the game accepts his “4″. 

“I would have gotten it eventually,” Sonny says, trying to act annoyed but there’s no way Barba believes it for a second. So they work on the stupid game for the next thirty minutes of the flight, though it’s mostly Barba who gets the numbers right at first, leaning into Sonny with his cheek pressed against his shoulder.


	7. The One in Miami (pt 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Sonny's a pasty white boy and you know he'd sunburn easily.

They finally get back to the hotel room an hour before sunset.

Barba had wanted to stay because he loves watching the ocean change colors as the sun goes down, but Sonny had looked about ready to pass out in the chair next to him. The faster the sun moved towards the west, the more Sonny picked up his chair and shifted until he was still under their huge umbrella. Barba laughs when Sonny eventually gives up on chasing the shade and simply tosses his towel over his head, scowling out at the ocean. Picking up their cooler and tossing his own towel over his shoulder, Barba holds out his free hand and smiles when Sonny takes it, pulling the other man to his feet. 

Sonny tugs his shirt back over his head as they walk towards the hotel, and Barba frowns when he winces as his arms drop back down to his sides. He looks over the top of his sunglasses and ouch, yeah, Sonny looks a little red in the cheeks but Barba knows he’ll play it off like it’s nothing.

When they walk into their room, Sonny goes straight for the bathroom, quickly unwrapping one of those little plastic cups and turning the sink on as cold as it’ll go. Barba watches him down two glasses, eyes closed and fingers gripping the countertop as he drinks.

“You know, you could have said you wanted to come back to the room earlier,” Barba says with a sigh, leaning against the bathroom’s doorframe. Sonny leans over and splashes his face with water, running a damp hand through his hair before looking back up at Barba.

“I’m fine, guess I was just thirstier than I thought,” Sonny tries to shrug off the concern, wiping off his face with a hand towel. Barba doesn’t miss the grimace when he moves the towel down over his neck.

“Right,” Barba says, rolling his eyes as he goes to sit on the edge of the bed. He grabs the TV remote and flips it on, flipping past the useless channels showing local news he doesn’t care to hear. 7 day forecast? Sunny and hot. He never would have guessed.

Sonny walks in a minute later, wordlessly dropping his t-shirt on the floor before crawling onto the bed, face pressed into his pillow with a groan.

“Fuck, Sonny,” Barba actually gasps when he turns around, moving to sit further up on the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” He reaches out and gently takes ahold of the hand that’s laying palm up next to Sonny’s side.

“I didn’t know until I looked in the mirror,” Sonny mumbles into the pillow. He sounds defeated and tired but Barba doesn’t miss the edge of pain in his voice.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” Barba says, leaning forward and gently pressing his lips to Sonny’s wrist because it’s not as red as his back is turning. Sonny doesn’t say anything, just responds with a pitiful little grunt into his pillow.

Barba quickly makes his way back outside, walking down to the little convenience shop on the corner and gathering what they’ll need for the night. He gets in line behind a tourist-y couple, easily given away by the “Miami” printed across their very obvious souvenir shirts. Barba rolls his eyes and mentally begs the old man at the counter to please hurry up.

It takes two tries to get their door to read his keycard but luckily Sonny didn’t try to get up and open it for him. Barba really doesn’t think he’ll be moving from that bed any time soon. He sets the grocery bag down next to the bed, returning to the sink and filling the cup with water before sitting down next to Sonny.

“Hey,” he says softly, though he knows there’s no way Sonny fell asleep. He doesn’t know what to do with his hand after setting the cup on the nightstand, unwilling to touch his skin and cause any more discomfort. “I bought you some aloe.”

He knows Sonny heard him because he slowly shifts on the pillow until he’s facing Barba. He cracks open one eye and looks out the giant window next to the bed. “Sorry you’re missing your great ocean sunset,” he says. He looks so pitiful and actually sorry that Barba has to laugh, which makes Sonny smile too.

“I think I can forgive you,” Barba says, standing up and getting the tube of aloe from the bag. “This is gonna feel a little cold, alright?”

“I trust you,” Sonny says, eyes falling shut again, relaxing into the mattress as Barba sits back down next to him. He feels his chest draw tight at Sonny’s words, and leans down to press a kiss to his temple.


	8. The One With Too Much Fluff

Sonny gets home late that night, clock ticking steadily closer to midnight when he finally walks into the apartment. It’s quiet and dark, the curtains drawn shut and instantly he can feel how truly dead on his feet he is. He tries to not rub his eyes, even though they’re dry and itchy and it’s driving him nuts. Instead he walks to the bathroom as quietly as he can manage, turning on the light when the door clicks shut quietly behind him. He takes out his contacts and splashes hot water on his face before stripping down to his underwear. 

When he opens the door and walks toward the bed, he knows Barba’s awake. Damnit, no matter how quiet Sonny tries to be, he _always_ wakes up. He crawls into bed and shivers as he pulls the blankets over him, smiling when Barba immediately slides closer until he’s pressed against Sonny’s side, face tucked against his neck. 

“What time is it,” Barba says quietly into the darkness, voice rough with sleep. 

“Late,” Sonny says, turning his face until his cheek is resting against Barba’s hair. “I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to say it, but he feels Barba sigh, hot air rushing over his skin. 

“Don’t apologize,” Barba says, wrapping his arm tighter across Sonny’s stomach. Sonny doesn’t say anything else, just lets himself fall asleep in the arms he’s thought about all night. They both know he’ll apologize the next time he comes home late, and the time after that, too, but it doesn’t matter either way.


	9. The One in the Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For my darling notmyyacht: "barba and sonny get stuck in an elevator. in order to pass the time -hey, why not a blowjob? except whenever they touch, loud japanese pop music starts playing."
> 
> Thank goodness I didn't listen to the whole cracked out prompt.

It’s not some romantic, hesitant moment the first time Barba kisses him. No, it’s desperate and overwhelming and so unbelievably hot, the way he presses Sonny against the side of the car. The way he tugs Sonny forward by the back of the neck, stepping closer until every inch of him is pressed as close as possible. He forgets they’re outside on the street in plain view, even if it’s late at night and the streets are fairly empty. Instead he leans forward into the kiss, running his hand through Barba’s hair, shivering when he feels a hand sneak under his t-shirt. Barba breaks away from the kiss, and his smirk is so smug that Sonny can’t do anything but swallow against the fucking whimper rising in his throat. Then he’s pressing hot lips against Sonny’s throat, moving further down agonizingly slow, and he’s never been so happy to have a car to lean on. Otherwise Sonny’s pretty sure he’d be on the ground already, and they really, really need to move this upstairs.

“Hey,” Sonny finally manages to get out, pushing Barba’s shoulder gently until he finally breaks away. “How about somewhere—” and Barba’s got that stupid smirk on his face again as he quickly kisses him again, “—a little more—” another kiss, a hand brushing against the front of his jeans and that’s just _cruel_ , “—private?”

Barba doesn’t answer him, just turns around and starts walking towards the apartment building. Sonny takes a breath and when he lets it out, it sounds as shaky as his legs feel. He catches up to Barba at the door, following him into the empty lobby and towards the elevator. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands while they wait for the door to chime open, and he can tell Barba’s trying to act like he’s perfectly composed like always. But Sonny sees the sweat trailing down the back of his neck, and it’s _so_ tempting to just press up against Barba’s back and press his lips to that beautiful expanse of skin where his jaw meets his ear. He’s saved by the door sliding open in front of them, so he ducks his head and follows Barba into the elevator. 

The second the doors start to shut behind him, he’s being crowded up against the wall, and all he can do is swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat when he sees the grin on Barba’s face. He’s absolutely fucked, he just knows it. He watches him turn just enough to find the right button to press, and there’s no way in hell Sonny’s gonna survive the ride up to the sixth floor with Barba grinding against him like this. Really, he’s not sure he’ll even last til the third floor at this rate. 

And then, because he’s an absolute bastard, Barba’s unbuttoning Sonny’s pants and sticking his tongue down his throat and he moans, gripping Barba’s hip so tight that he kinda hopes there’s a bruise to show for it in the morning. But then Barba pulling away and before Sonny has a chance to register what’s happening, Barba’s on his knees and _fuck_ , he doesn’t think he could get any harder. 

“Don’t worry,” Barba says, and Sonny groans at how calmly teasing he sounds, when he’s got Sonny‘s cock in his hand in the middle of _a public elevator_. “The security camera hasn’t worked for months.” 

And then Sonny’s knees are about to buckle and fail right then and there because Barba can do absolutely _sinful_ things with that tongue. He forces his eyes to open again, chest rising erratically as Barba starts to suck him off like there’s no tomorrow and yeah, there’s absolutely no way he can last like this. Not when they’re rising up so slowly, the digital display finally ticking past the third floor, and Sonny’s heart beats faster every time the elevator hesitates. The door could open to some stranger at any time, and Sonny will never admit it but the suspense from that knowledge is probably what sends him over the edge. He can feel Barba swallowing around him and then the display shifts again. Fifth floor. There’s still sweat dripping down his forehead when Barba stands and zips him back up, relaxing against his chest. Sonny leans into him and kisses him softly, sense of urgency gone. 

When the door finally chimes and slides open, Barba takes his hand and leads him into the hallway. While Barba reaches into his pocket and takes out his keys, Sonny doesn’t resist this time like he did in the lobby, pressing his chest against Barba’s back, hands coming up to rest on his hips. His lips brush against the nape of his neck, lingering so close but not quite touching. Sonny smiles when Barba grips the keys tighter, pushing the door open quickly when it finally unlocks.


	10. The One Outside the Courthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's face it, notmyyacht instigates most of these: "Barba loses his temper and Sonny has to calm him down."

After the judge delivers his verdict, Barba shoves his files into his briefcase and storms out of the courtroom. Sonny sees the not very concealed anger on his face and yeah, this isn’t gonna be fun. Nothing pisses Barba off like a judge overruling a jury’s decision. 

Sonny catches the look Amanda’s giving him and he rolls his eyes, waving a hand at her (as if to say _yeah yeah, I got this, don’t worry_ ) before standing up to go find Barba. He’s not exactly hard to find, fuming by the elevator door and pressing the ‘down’ button over and over. Luckily the button doesn’t fly off from the abuse, and Sonny reaches his side just as the doors slide open. He moves to stand behind Barba in the corner of the elevator, ignoring the people who file in after them. 

Barba’s still breathing hard, staring down at the floor and shaking his head just enough for Sonny to notice. Nobody’s paying any attention to them, not that they know any of these random people anyways, so Sonny raises his hand and runs it over the back of Barba’s arm, smiling when he sees the tension start to leave his shoulders at the touch.

Once they finally reach the front doors, Sonny ignores the stairs leading down to the street and walks towards one of the building’s pillars, knowing Barba will follow him. Atleast here they’re out of sight of the endless stream of people coming in and out of the courthouse, and the reporters waiting like vultures are happily pestering the attorney who just got that scum off scot-free. 

Barba seems to deflate right in front of him, shoulders slumping in defeat and sighing heavily as he looks up Sonny with that horrible pained look he always gets after losing a case. Sonny doesn’t lean forward to kiss him like he wants to, it’s _way_ too public a setting and Benson could walk up to them at any moment. He does let himself lift a hand to Barba’s neck though, quickly sweeping his thumb over his cheek before dropping his hand. Sonny just stands there smiling at him until Barba finally gives in and smiles back, rolling his eyes. It works every time.


	11. The One Where They're Found Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Amanda, alright? She and Sonny are bros and you can't tell me otherwise.

For the first time in weeks the sun is shining on a Saturday morning, so Amanda drags herself out of bed for expensive coffee down the street, apologizing to Frannie on her way out the door. “Next time,” Amanda promises, smiling as her dog lies back down on the rug with a sigh. 

The city is already awake and bustling per usual, but the sunshine seems to have lightened everybody’s moods for once. She makes her way down the block, the door to the coffeehouse chiming as she walks inside. She looks over the tables and smiles when she notices they’re not even half-full so far today. Perfect. She steps up to the counter and smiles at the cashier, ordering her usual.

After paying, she tucks the receipt into her pocket and turns towards the other end of the counter, waiting for her name to be called. She absently scans the room, but something in the corner catches her eye and when she takes a second look, yeah, that’s definitely Barba at the back table. Behind her someone calls her name, so she turns around with a quick smile, taking the coffee before walking towards Barba’s table. Apparently the books and papers laid out in front of him aren’t his, since he’s leaning back and clearly playing some game on his phone. The guy next to him is hunched over the table, scribbling away on a loose sheet of paper, the brim of the Yankees hat he’s got on hiding his face.

Then Barba says something, looking away from his phone and smirking at whoever’s next to him, grin spreading across his face as he laughs at the other man’s reaction. She watches Barba lower his phone to his lap, one of his hands settling on top of the guy’s thigh. “Huh,” she thinks, and nearly drops her drink when note-taking-guy suddenly looks up, lifting the snapback off his head and running a hand through his hair, grinning back at Barba before slipping the hat on backwards. Yeah, note-taking-guy is definitely Carisi. Sonny Carisi. This can’t be happening.

That’s when her grip on the coffee cup tightens even more, the hot drink starting to burn her hand but she doesn’t care because that means that’s Barba’s _hand_ on Carisi’s _thigh_ and oh _lord_ , what has she walked into?

“Hey guys,” she says, finally making herself walk up to their table. She holds back a laugh when Carisi looks up at her and promptly drops his pen. He doesn’t move to pick it up, just opens his mouth to probably stumble over some excuse. Luckily, Barba starts talking first, purposely not moving his hand from Sonny’s leg.

“Detective,” and there’s that self-confident smile she’s used to. “Funny seeing you here. Having a good weekend?” Barba definitely thinks this is all hilarious. Amanda certainly does. Carisi, not so much. He keeps looking up at her and then back to Barba, back and forth like he’s a cartoon character. Then he notices his pen on the floor and fidgets for a moment before leaning over to pick it up.

Amanda watches as Barba’s hand moves from Carisi’s leg to slide up his back, staring down Amanda the whole time. Now it’s _really_ hard not to laugh, because Carisi is sitting up again, face turning red because Barba’s hand is now just resting against the back of his neck. Amanda rolls her eyes at Barba’s not very concealed challenge.

“Oh, calm down,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. It’s not very hot anymore. “I just came over to say hi. That’s all.”

Carisi still looks like he’s about to die from embarrassment, so she saves them all from the awkward lull.

“I have to admit, you guys hide it well. You certainly had me fooled,” she laughs, smiling despite herself when she sees Carisi look over at Barba when a satisfied little smile on his face. Barba looks back at him in such an intimate, private way, rubbing his thumb against the side of his neck, that she has to look down at the floor before speaking again. “I won’t say anything to anyone. Don’t worry. Just… no dirty details, alright, Carisi?”

Carisi finally looks up and smiles at her, leaning back into Barba’s touch. “Fair enough.”

She says goodbye and moves towards the front door, about to walk out onto the street when she looks back at their table one more time. She watches Barba say something, smile growing on his face as Carisi leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. Amanda ducks her head and pushes the door open, breathing in the fresh air as she walks back to her apartment. _Good for them_ , she thinks. Except now she’s really starting to regret promising to keep their secret, though. Looks like Frannie’s gonna have to be her confidante.  


	12. The One With... Cheetos?

Barba’s not really sure when it started, but ever since Sonny started staying over more (meaning five days a week, more often than not) he’s been finding… Cheetos in odd places. And by odd, he means _all over the apartment._

Bright red hot Cheetos that leave their obnoxious little dust piles on _everything._ The couch, the coffee table, the kitchen counter, even the bathroom counter. What are they doing into the bathroom? No, nevermind, he doesn’t want to know.

Contrary to popular belief, Barba actually goes to bed at a reasonable hour most nights. Sonny is the night owl, though Barba thinks it probably has to do with how wired up he gets during cases. In the morning there will be case files strewn all over the couch, a crumbled bag of chips on the table. He’s never really sure what time Sonny finally joins him in bed on those nights, but the next morning he’s always got bags under his eyes. Sonny shrugs it off every time he tries to ask him about it, so he stops asking. The files everywhere don’t bother him, but the little red crumbs do.

It’s not until he’s leaving his office that night that he notices the bright little patch of red on the underside of his suit jacket. He rolls his eyes and carefully wipes off the pesky little crumbs, shaking his head because _how_ did they stay on there all day? They’re gonna talk about this little Cheetos problem tonight. There’s no way he’s going to let someone call him out in court one day because there’s damn crumbs on his otherwise impeccable suit.

When he finally gets home, Sonny’s already there, splayed out on the couch and it’s such a distracting sight but no, they have to talk about this, he’s not going to be distracted by that lanky body tonight. Well, not yet atleast.

And then he notices the bag tucked between Sonny’s side and the back of the couch.

Big red Cheetos _puffs._

“No!” He says maybe a little louder than he intended, shocking them both. “No, no more! This is getting ridiculous!”

He walks to the couch and grabs the bag, ignoring Sonny’s pitiful little whine as he crumbles the top down and storms off to the kitchen. He shoves the bag in the nearest cabinet, which, he’s pretty sure is full of glasses and not exactly the right place for chips but he really doesn’t care how organized his kitchen is right now. Sonny’s still looking up at him from the couch completely dumbfounded, red fingertips lingering in the air like he’s not really sure what just happened.

When he starts to blush, Barba rolls his eyes and holds back a laugh because _yes, Sonny, I know your big dark secret_. He leans back against the counter and watches Sonny stand up, moving to join him in the kitchen.

“You’d better keep those hands to yourself,” Barba says, cringing as Sonny reaches forward and then – oh, reaches around him. Apparently he’s standing in front of the sink. He tries to move to the side, but Sonny locks his arms, keeping him still and trapped where he’s at.

Suddenly Sonny’s got the entire length of his body pressed against his; Barba finds that he doesn’t mind one bit, all his previous frustration gone in an instant. He lifts his hands to Sonny’s sides, shivering when a minute later he leans forward even more to shut off the water and dry his hands.  

“They’re clean now,” Sonny says, pressing their cheeks together and the scrape of stubble against Barba’s face is intoxicating. “You still want me to keep them to myself?”


	13. The One Where Someone's Pregnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Sonny gives me life.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Barba calls out from the couch, and Sonny pulls his head out of the fridge. He turns around, grabbing the buzzing phone off the counter as Barba smirks at him from the couch. Sonny smiles when he reads the display, quickly swiping the screen and putting the call on speakerphone. 

“Bella!” He says, reopening the fridge door and grabbing the leftovers from the top shelf. 

“Hey,” she says, like she’s distracted. “Are you busy right now? Are you at work?” 

He frowns when he notices how nervous she sounds, so he quickly sets the takeout container in the microwave and starts the timer. He picks up his phone and turns off the speaker, holding it against ear with his shoulder as he moves around the kitchen. 

“No, no I’m at home, just about to eat,” he says, leaning back against the counter. He grins when he sees Barba smile down at the file he’s working on. _Yeah, it sure feels like home._ “What’s up?”

When she doesn’t answer him immediately he starts to pace, a hundred scenarios going through his head. 

“I’m pregnant.” Definitely not on the list of scenarios running through his head.

“What!” He can’t help from shouting, and Barba looks up in surprise, leaning back to watch Sonny continue to pace around the kitchen. “That’s so great!” 

“Really?” She sounds so relieved that Sonny can’t stop grinning, already thinking of all the good things that this will bring. She’s had a tough run of it, she deserves to be happy. When Sonny notices Barba still watching him from the couch, he realizes how truly happy he is, too. 

“Yeah,” he says with a content sigh. “It’s really great.”


	14. The One Where Sonny Can't Cook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I have to say, in my head Sonny's actually a pretty good cook. He's just survived on take-out the last few years, what with all the shift work and crazy hours.

“Don’t even say it,” Sonny says, sighing as he glares down at the failed meal simmering on the stove in front of him. The sauce is all wrong. And by all wrong, he means absolutely disgusting and inedible. What a waste. 

“We can order whatever you want,” Barba says, clearly trying not to smile as Sonny huffs and finally turns off the burner. “I’ll buy.”

“You always buy.”

Barba rolls his eyes, reaching for his phone that’s charging on the counter. “We’re not arguing about that again. What do you want, Thai? That sounds good. You want the usual?” 

Barba’s already dialed and walking away before he gets a chance to answer, so Sonny just smiles and follows him into the living room. 

“It’ll be here in 30,” Barba says, laughing as Sonny plops down on the couch next to him. Sonny immediately leans forward so he can press a kiss to the side of his neck, followed by another and another, until Barba’s no longer laughing.

“Thirty whole minutes, huh?” Sonny says against his throat, laughing when Barba eagerly nods. Good. That’s all the time he needs, anyways.


	15. The One After the Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I love this one.)

By the time they make it upstairs, sweat’s dripping down the side of Sonny’s face, skin growing paler by the second. He braces himself against the wall while Barba tries to unlock the door, fumbling the keys and cursing as they drop to the floor. 

“Hey,” Sonny says, and he can see Barba’s jaw clench, eyes closing for a split second as he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m fine.”

Barba looks over at him and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, completely fine. You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

Finally Barba gets the door unlocked, reaching forward to grab Sonny‘s hand and pull him gently inside the apartment. Barba sets the little paper bag from the hospital pharmacy on the counter before turning to help Sonny out of his jacket. Sonny clenches his eyes, bracing against the screaming pain that starts to run up his arm. He feels his hair start to stick to the sweat running down his forehead. There’s no way he’s taking off his t-shirt, he can’t even imagine lifting his arm right now.

His button-up is long gone, probably cut to shreds when they finally got to the hospital. Sonny remembers hearing the gunshot, remembers the immediate flash of pain, dropping his own weapon in shock and blindly pressing the palm of his hand against slippery, hot blood. He remembers dropping to his knees, the quick _pop pop_ of return fire somewhere to his left and then Fin and Rollins are by his side, sirens already screaming in the distance. He doesn’t remember passing out, but he does remember thinking that he’s bleeding way too much for a through-and-through, must have nicked something important, _boy that’s gonna suck._

Sonny lets Barba lead him into the bedroom, easing down onto mattress slowly but wanting to moan at how much better the soft comforter and pillows feel compared to the shitty hospital bed. The clock across the room tells him it’s nearly four in the morning, which, yeah, sounds about right. His little blood-loss induced nap earlier really messed up his internal clock, apparently. He’s about to fall asleep when he feels Barba sweep back the hair that’s fallen down over his eyes. He opens his eyes to see Barba standing over him with a glass of water and bottle of pills; with a groan he sits forward, quickly swallowing the offered pill before lying back down

Barba walks to his own side of the bed, quickly stripping out of his wrinkled clothes and crawling under the covers. He starts to shift until he’s closer to Sonny’s side, but he sees him hesitate, watches him go still, eyes dropping down to the stark white bandage wrapped around Sonny’s bicep, visible even in the dim light coming through the window. Barba shifts forward until he can press a kiss to the top of Sonny’s shoulder before resting his cheek the same spot. It’s about as close as they can get right now. It sucks.

“I almost lost you,” Barba says into the darkness, his hand slipping softly under the edge of Sonny’s shirt, until his palm is resting gently on top of his stomach.

“No you didn’t,” Sonny moves his good arm until his fingers curl around Barba’s forearm, thumb stroking over soft skin. “I’m right here.”


	16. The One Where Sonny Doesn't Come Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I really, really love this one. There's more undercover Sonny to come, I promise.

“You lied to me,” Barba says into the phone, leaning against the kitchen counter and gripping the edge just to have something to hold on to. He can hear Sonny sigh on the other end, tries to push down his frustration as the silence stretches on. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Sonny finally says, quiet and subdued and Barba can tell he’s sorry. “I didn’t have much choice, alright? Rollins and Amaro don’t even know yet.”

“It’s been three days, Sonny,” Barba can tell he’s starting to yell, takes a breath to calm himself back down. Closes his eyes, grips the counter tighter. “You told me you had to stay late, not that you wouldn’t be coming home at all.” 

He pauses, hesitating. Sonny lets him finish. “I was worried about you.”

“I know.” His voice sounds so close, so real, that Barba can almost imagine he’s standing right next to him. “I wanted to call you, I tried to, but everything happened so fast. They had an opportunity, and we had to move fast before we lost the chance to get in.” 

“Why’d it have to be you?” Barba knows he sounds ridiculous, whining like a child who had something taken away with no explanation. “Why couldn’t they have sent Amaro undercover? Why’d it have to be someone from SVU?”

“I was the only one who hadn’t had direct contact,” Sonny says after a moment. He sounds as tired as Barba feels. He wonders if Sonny feels as emotionally stretched out, raw from worrying for the last three days straight, thinking of every possible scenario possible. Liv told him not to worry, sent him a few measly texts on the second day. _He’s fine, you’ll hear from him soon. I promise. I’m sorry._ As if “I’m sorry” sated his worry.

“How long?” Barba finally brings himself to ask. Sonny doesn’t say anything at first, but he can hear him sigh again. Deep and slow. Barba can almost see him start to fidget, run a hand over his face, shifting the phone against his face as he figures out how to answer. 

“I dunno. A month,” another pause, shorter this time, his next words quieter like he’s avoiding them. “Maybe more. Liv said it shouldn’t be more than three months at the rate things are going with the op.”

“Three months,” Barba repeats uselessly. He finally moves from his spot against the counter, walking into the living room on unsteady legs and collapsing down on the couch. A month. Three months. He doesn’t know what’s worse, knowing how long it could be or knowing he’ll be counting down the days either way. “You can’t even tell me what you’ll be doing, can you?”

It’s not a real question, Barba already knows the answer. But he wants to hear Sonny say it, either way.

“You know that I can’t,” Sonny replies right away this time. Barba can tell from his tone that he needs to get off the phone. “I might have to get a new phone. You’ll know if it’s me.”

“Okay,” is all he can say, swallowing against the dryness in his throat, suddenly nervous about hanging up and letting Sonny go for who knows how long. “ I–” another pause, more horrible silence that’s his doing this time. “Sonny, I–”

“I know, Raf,” Sonny cuts him off, voice soft in his ear. “I’ll call you when I can, okay?”

“Okay,” he says. For someone who talks for a living, he’s not very good at goodbyes. 

“Goodnight, Raf,” Sonny says before he hangs up, like it’s any other normal phonecall. 

He drops the phone next to him on the couch, ignoring the flashing light telling him he’s got new unread messages. He knows it’s probably Liv, but he doesn’t feel like talking to anybody else tonight.

He gets up and walks into the bedroom, stripping down to his boxers and slowly crawling under the pile of blankets. Usually Sonny’s body heat warms the bed up enough that he only needs the top two layers, but without him here Barba feels the need to wrap himself up. 

The bed feels colder than it has all week.


	17. The One Where Barba Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Parents' Nightmare, Barba gets back from his trip to the Caribbean.

“Of course,” Barba says as he gets into the passenger seat. “Of course it’s raining.”  
  
“Miss the beach already, huh?” Sonny says, leaning back in his seat and smiling over at him, car still in park.

Barba shrugs, watches the rain hit the windshield for a moment before finally looking over at Sonny, amused by the fact that they’re still just sitting here. “A little. I had a few reasons to come home, though.” 

Sonny grins, leans across the car and pulls Barba forward by the back of the neck, kisses him gently, lingers against Barba’s lips until the car behind them honks. “Guess we should go, huh?” Sonny says when he finally pulls away, laughing under his breath as he shifts into drive. 

They make it back to the apartment pretty quickly considering it’s a Friday afternoon, but the roads are relatively free, besides the usual swarms of taxis. Barba can understand it; why be out in the rain if you don’t have to? Barba grabs his suitcase out of the backseat once they’re parked, starts to move towards the front door until he realizes Sonny’s not following him. 

The rain’s not falling as hard now, almost a gentle sprinkle, like an afterthought. But there’s Sonny, standing in the middle of it, hands tucked in his jacket pockets and eyes closed, breathing deeply. 

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” Barba says, smiling at the way Sonny breaks out of his little trance and walks towards him.  

“What can I say,” he shrugs, taking Barba’s bag from him and walking inside. “I like the way spring storms smell. A little rain can’t bring me down today.”

Barba smiles and follows him inside, standing next to him as they wait for the elevator.

“So,” Sonny says as soon as the doors finally open. “You brought me back a present, right?”


	18. The One With the Souvenir Shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of #17.

It rains the whole weekend, thick overcast skies keeping the apartment dark and still. 

Sonny finally gets out of bed at 10, wandering into the kitchen as he pulls an old hoodie over his head. The day’s newspaper is spread out over the kitchen island, but there’s no Barba in front of it, just an empty plate with some crumbs on it. The coffee pot is still mostly full, so Sonny fills up his mug before moving towards the couch, smiling as Barba flips through the DVR for whatever shows he missed while out of town.

“You watched Divorce Court without me,” Barba mumbles from his spot on the couch, curled up on his side with a blanket wrapped around him. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Sonny says, taking a sip of his drink. “Seven days was too long a wait.”

Barba grunts, pressing play on last Monday’s first episode. “Now you get to watch them all again.”

“That’s okay,” Sonny says, walking around the side of the couch. “I don’t mind. They’re better with you here anyways.”

He goes to sit down by Barba’s feet, laughing when he suddenly sits up and tugs on Sonny’s hoodie, pulling him towards the other side. Barba sits up, tugging again until Sonny gets the hint and sits down. He immediately sets his pillow down on Sonny’s lap, laying his head back down and curling up against him. 

Twenty minutes later, Barba’s out like a light, a steady and quiet warmth against Sonny’s side. He reaches forward as carefully as he can to grab the remote, backing out of the episode and putting on the usual FX movie marathon on mute. There’s no way he’s watching the same Divorce Court episode a third time. It wasn’t even one of the good ones, Sonny thinks. 

Barba must feel him moving, because he shifts until he’s no longer facing the TV, face pressed into the soft front of Sonny’s hoodie. 

“Please,” he mumbles in his half-sleep state, “Don’t leave.” If anything he curls up into a tighter little ball, grasping Sonny’s hoodie with one hand while the other manages to slide underneath the edge and spread out against his warm skin.

Sonny laughs softly, raking his fingers through Barba’s hair with a smile. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Half an hour later, Sonny deeply regrets his hoodie; Barba has turned into a furnace underneath the blanket. He tugs at the collar, pulls up the sleeves, tries to shift the blanket down a little bit, but Barba immediately notices even in his sleep, tugging it back up over his shoulders. Sonny sighs, frowning down at Barba and wondering how the hell he’s not dyin’ under there. It’s not even that cold today. 

Sonny can’t stand it anymore. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, shaking Barba’s shoulder gently as he tries to rouse him. “Let go of my shirt for a minute, okay?” 

Barba wakes up (barely) after a second and releases his grip, so Sonny takes the opportunity to pull the hoodie over his head. He sighs at the immediate flow of cool air, laughing as Barba quickly goes back to his previous position against him.

When Barba runs his hand over the front of Sonny’s shirt, he cracks open his eyes with a frown. Sonny laughs at the sleepy confusion on his face. He gives a little annoyed sigh before closing his eyes again, rubbing his cheek against Sonny’s stomach, as if he could get any closer. 

“You know the shirt wasn’t supposed to be your actual gift, right,” Barba says, but the small smile on his face betrays the annoyance in his voice. 

“I know,” Sonny says, smoothing a hand over the French Caribbean - St. Barth logo printed on the front. “But it’s really soft. I like it.”

“Good,” Barba says, smile lingering on his face even after he’s fallen asleep again.


	19. The One With the Heatwave

Barba usually runs cold at night, especially during the winter. He sleeps in a t-shirt and flannel pants and always plasters himself against Sonny’s back because it’s just so warm the whole night through. But then there’s a heat wave in early May, and the A/C is acting up because it’s been sitting all winter. 

When Sonny comes home that night (late because of class, not work, he was studying with some classmates– in those cute little glasses) and Barba’s splayed on the bed, shirtless with the sheets kicked down towards his feet, the bedroom window open as wide as it’ll go. There’s a small breeze coming in now, but it’s still humid as hell and miserable. But Sonny grins at the sight in front of him, quickly slipping out of his clothes and joining him on the bed. He traces a finger over Barba’s spine, through the smooth sheen of sweat, smiling when he shivers beneath his touch. 

He presses a kiss to his shoulder blade, then another, until he’s reached the back of his neck. He knows Barba’s awake now, even though his eyes are still closed, so Sonny just lays his cheek on his smooth skin, watching with a smile until Barba caves and opens his eyes. “Hi,” Sonny mumbles against him, and the unbearable heat is completely worth it when Barba smiles at him like that.


	20. The One Where It's June 4th

_> It’s June 4, Raf!_

Barba doesn’t get the chance to look at his messages until he finally gets back to his office for lunch, collapsing down in his chair and squinting at Sonny’s text.

_What?_

He takes a bite out of his sandwich, staring at his phone on the desk until Sonny inevitably texts him back. It’s not fair that Sonny’s got the day off, while Barba’s at work slaving away over paperwork. His phone buzzes at him from the table, so he swipes the screen and immediately laughs at the picture Sonny’s sent him.

Sonny’s still lying in bed— Barba shakes his head, because it’s coming up on noon already, shouldn’t he be studying or something? — with Bear, who’s lying half across his collarbone and half curled up around his head on the pillow. Her back legs are stretched out while her front feet are tucked up against Sonny’s temple, her little face pressed into his hair. Sonny’s got his face turned into her belly, eyes all scrunched up in the way Barba loves as he grins into her fur.

Barba picks the phone up and dials, propping it up against his ear with his shoulder.

“Am I supposed to know why June 4th is significant?” Barba asks when Sonny finally picks up.

“It’s National Hug Your Cat Day,” Sonny says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but Barba can hear his smile through the words. He can hear how rough Sonny’s voice is from the morning’s disuse, he barely even got a goodbye this morning when he left. If there’s one thing Sonny’s good at it, it’s taking advantage of mornings where he can sleep in.

“Oh,” he nods, secretly thinking _where does he get this stuff?_ “Of course it is.”

Sonny just hums an affirmative into the phone. Barba can hear him burrowing further into the pillow, then a soft almost inaudible buzzing sound starts to come over the line—he smiles, laughs into the phone. “She’s purring, isn’t she?”

“Like a freight train.”

Barba pokes at the last bits of his sandwich, wishing he could sneak home early but there’s no way he can swing it today. “Is that all you two are gonna do today? Lie around and sleep the day away?”

“That’s the plan,” Sonny says, though Barba can tell he’s starting to drift off, his voice rough and starting to slur a little bit like it always does when he’s tired. The line goes quiet, and Barba almost thinks Sonny fell asleep with the phone still on his face (it wouldn’t be the first time) but then—“We miss you.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair, smoothing down his tie. “I know,” he sighs, glancing at the pile of paperwork on his desk. “Me too. I’ll be there soon.”

“You promise?” Sonny’s definitely falling asleep now, completely mumbling now.

“I promise,” Barba laughs softly into the phone, finally hanging up once he’s gotten Sonny to sleepily say goodbye. Still smiling, he grabs the nearest file and gets back to work. He never used to appreciate going home at a reasonable hour, not until he had Sonny to go home to.


	21. The One Where It's Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon prompt: Carisi+feelings towards Halloween.

Sonny’s always loved Halloween.

When they were kids, it was always him and Bella, wandering through their own building, knocking on every decorated door, before running up and down the block. They’d always stop by Mr. Harris’ place twice– his memory was pretty much shot, by the time they came back an hour later, he’d seen so many kids that he didn’t give the two of them a second look. 

They’d spread out their candy loot on their beds, sorting everything until their mom called lights out. Sonny would turn off the lamp, shout “Night Ma!” down the hall, then shuffle in the darkness over to Bella’s bed, climbing on top with her. They’d sit by the light of her tiny flashlight for another hour, trading Kit-Kat’s for Snickers, Reese’s for Twizzlers. 

Bella would always pass out first, the sugar crash hitting her hard practically mid-bite. Sonny would scoop all the candy back into her bucket before tucking her in and moving back to his own bed. Halloween was always about the two of them, their two sisters too old and cool to go trick-or-treating with the “kids”. Sonny liked it that way. Thanksgiving and Christmas were always so hectic, but Halloween was just right.

These days Sonny doesn’t always get the night off, and he doesn’t always get to spend the evening with Bella, but it’s still one of his favorite holidays.

Now it’s him and Amanda– and Frannie, dressed up as a lobster or a spider or a pirate because her owner finds it hilarious and Frannie really doesn’t mind– and Rafael, when Sonny can drag him out. They mostly wander around town, walking through the park (or stumbling) and stopping at whatever bar has an outdoor section so the dog can stay with the group. They drink and have fun and Sonny makes Barba drink all the ridiculous holiday-themed shots with him, while Amanda accepts compliments about Frannie’s dog costume, and some compliments for her own costume, too.

Sonny doesn’t think he’ll stop loving Halloween any time soon.


	22. The One Where Barba's Totally Not Jealous

“How’d the case go with Ellis?” Barba asks out of nowhere, making Sonny look up from his textbook.

“Huh? Oh, it was great,” Sonny says, smiling like a kid who just met one of his idols. “Can’t believe I finally got to work with him on a case.”

Barba hums a little, nodding his head, turning his attention back to the TV like he wasn’t the one who started the conversation in the first place. Sonny watches him for a minute, leaning back in his chair and quietly closing his book.

Sonny nearly laughs when the realization hits him. “Wait a minute, are you jealous?”

“No,” Barba gives him a half-assed shrug, starting to channel surf. He’s not going for subtlety anymore, that’s for sure.

“I think you are,” Sonny grins and props his chin up on his palm, watching Barba studiously ignore him. “What, you don’t like it when I try to impress other lawyers? What if I did it when you were around, how much would it bother you?”

“I wouldn’t care,” Barba shrugs, standing up from the couch and moving towards the bedroom. “I’m going to bed, are we done talking about this?” Unfortunately, Sonny doesn’t get the hint and follows him right in.

“You sure about that? Because ya kinda seem bothered by it right now.” Sonny starts to unbutton his shirt, still watching Barba with that stupid smug grin. Barba rolls his eyes and takes off his t-shirt, throwing back the covers on his side of the bed and crawling under them.

Sonny apparently takes his active ignoring tactics as a challenge, tossing his shirt on the floor (has Sonny learned nothing, he trips over everything in the middle of the night– you think he’d learn to pick up his clothes) and crawling onto the bed– onto _Barba’s_ side of the bed. Apparently Sonny won’t take the hint. Sleep, what a wonderful, far-off idea.

“What if I promise to never stop—“ Barba can’t help squirming a little bit when Sonny starts to press soft kisses up his chest, “—impressing you right here?”

Sonny is definitely always eager to please. How could Barba ever say no to that?

__  
  


 


	23. The One With Routine

Thinking back on it, Sonny’s not entirely sure what he used to do in his free time after work, outside of class.

His schedule has never been enviable, getting home at all times of day and night, hardly remembering to brush his teeth before collapsing face first into bed half the time. He remembers spending his days off catching up on laundry and schoolwork, fielding phone calls from family complaining that they never get to see him anymore. He remembers those rare days where he got lucky and wasn’t called in. Still, long days as a detective are way better than his rookie days on patrol, handing out tickets and dealing with argumentative drunks every night.

He still spends his days off catching up on laundry, but these days the loads are a little lighter, the clothes not all his. His night classes still keep him busy, but they don’t overwhelm him now that he’s got a proofreader around all the time. The fridge is a little more stocked now, too, filled with fewer frozen meals and half-empty take-out boxes.

The cashiers know his face at the corner store now, they smile and call him Sonny, making small talk while they ring up the cans of cat food in his basket. He doesn’t come up to any empty apartment anymore, even if he manages to beat Barba home for once. There’s always a flash of grey fur a couple seconds after he opens the front door, Bear rushing up to greet him like a dog, nearly falling over herself as she rubs against his legs.

Sometimes he still has a quiet apartment to himself – quiet other than the cat who relentlessly meows at him for fifteen minutes after he gets home, every single day – but eventually the front door opens again and Bear has someone new to love on. She always perks up before he even hears Barba’s key enter the lock, hopping off Sonny’s lap or her favorite spot on the arm of the couch and going to wait by the door.

Watching the cat dance around Barba’s legs makes Sonny smile; she does it every single time, pawing gently at his pants until he takes his suit jacket off and bends down to pick her up. Barba buries his face in her fur and holds her close against his chest as he talks to her softly in Spanish, their own little private greeting.

Barba always stops by the couch on his way towards the bedroom, setting the cat back down on Sonny’s lap as he leans down and presses a kiss to his temple. By the time Barba comes back to join them, Bear is a purring mess on Sonny’s lap, his notes forgotten on the coffee table as he channel surfs. Their evenings alone aren’t exciting by any means, but they’re perfect as far as Sonny’s concerned.

Sonny’s routine after work hasn’t really changed that much, not really. He still gets home at all times of night, but now he opens the door a little more gingerly, falls into bed a little more quietly, because he’s got a warm and sleepy Barba to wrap himself around now, on those cold nights where he gets home late.


	24. The One With Things Left Unsaid

Sonny doesn’t remember who started it, or what started it, or who finished it. Knowing Barba and the way their arguments usually go, Sonny highly doubts he got the last word in. None of that matters now, not when he’s grabbing his coat and slamming the front door behind him, struggling with the sleeves as he nearly runs down the stairs, opening the building doors and rushing out into the cool night air.

Halfway down the block it hits him; he forgot his wallet, and his keys, and his phone is nearly dead in his pocket. He knows Vince will serve him a drink even without his ID, knows he can pay back his tab tomorrow, so he continues down the street until the bar is in his sights. The cold wind bites at the back of his neck, sending a shiver down the entire length of his body. He shivers again, though this time he can’t blame the cold, just the regret and guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. He swallows against the dryness in his throat; his voice is raw from yelling. They’ve never yelled before, not like that.

It’s just after 10:30 by the time Sonny finishes his second beer. His phone lies silent on the countertop, no new messages waiting for him. Other than the occasional reminder that it desperately needs to be charged, it’s stayed quiet the entire time he’s been sitting here. He knows Barba probably went to bed, logically he knows that. It’s late, and it’s been a long, exhausting night. Sonny ignores the exhaustion burning at his own eyes with every blink. Still, he was half-hoping for atleast a, “Are you coming back home tonight or not?” text or something. Maybe a, “Where the hell did you go?” That sounds more plausible.

He gives Vince a half-hearted wave as he gets up to leave, accepts the apologetic and pitying smile he gets in return. He curses as he realizes he doesn’t have his gloves either, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets as he hurries down the sidewalk. He’s tired and mentally drained and all he wants to do is crawl into bed, and yet that’s what he’s been actively avoiding for the last hour. A block from home he decides the couch is probably the wiser option for tonight, wonders if he’ll be able to sneak into the bedroom quietly enough to grab the spare comforter without waking Barba.

His plan is going all right so far, the floor’s not being creaky tonight for once and Bear hasn’t made a peep. She watches him quietly from her spot at the foot of the bed, where she’s lying in a little ball on top of Barba’s feet. When he opens up the closet door, blindly reaching in for the spare comforter, he hears the bedsheets start to rustle behind him.

“Sonny, just get in bed,” Barba grumbles, face still pressed into his pillow.

Sonny doesn’t say anything, simply closes the closet door and quietly undresses before crawling under the covers. He feels the tension start to settle in his shoulders. Somehow, Barba is his usual relaxed sleepy self, but that might just be because that’s his default state after being woken in the middle of the night. Sonny sits back up after a restless minute, reaching down to scratch Bear behind the ears.

There’s no way he’s going to be able to fall asleep right now, not with this anxious itch under his skin, not knowing where Barba stands, or where he stands. Where they stand. He’s not good at this, not in the slightest. Then again, maybe their argument doesn’t really matter in the long run, if he’s still invited back into their bed after coming back home in the middle of the night. Sonny’s not very good with his words when he’s upset, so he decides to do what he knows best.

He shifts closer to Barba, until he can lean forward and press a kiss to the side of his neck, to that tender spot right behind his ear. He hesitantly lifts his hand to settle on Barba’s arm, fingers gently curling around his bicep, thumb sweeping across soft skin. He feels his chest grow tight when Barba reaches up to cover Sonny’s hand with his own.

He lets himself move a little closer, until he can wrap his arm around Barba and reach for his other hand, tangling their fingers together. He’s almost surprised at how desperate he feels right now, desperate to be as physically close as he can. They can fix the rest tomorrow.

Sonny falls asleep like that, with his face tucked against the back of Barba’s neck, every inhale Barba takes a comforting pressure against his chest, luring him to sleep.


	25. The One at Coney Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Sonny Carisi + amusement parks".

For all his exuberance at work, Sonny knows how to enjoy a quiet Friday night.

Well, if you consider walking around Coney Island with his fussy niece and both her parents quiet. If it were just him and Barba, it’d be a quiet night. Instead they’re slowly trailing behind Bella and Tommy, who have spent the entire time fussing over the baby and each other. Parenthood sure looks good on ‘em.

They walk pass all the game booths, dropped popcorn crunching underneath their shoes as kids scream past, chasing siblings and leaving their parents in the dust. Sonny loved coming here as a kid. He’d win the biggest stuffed animal every time, extra tickets shoved in his pockets as he hugged it all the way home. Then a few days later, without fail, Bella would cry and cry until his father yelled at him to just give her the bear already, just so she’d shut up. It never seemed to matter much that he’d be the one crying after that.

“You have too many already, Sonny,” his father would say, going back to reading his newspaper without a second glance at Sonny’s red face.

He doesn’t worry about winning the biggest stuffed animal anymore, though some part of him wants to see the look on Barba’s face when he’s handed a giant purple hippo. The baby’s not old enough to appreciate his skills at the skee ball booth yet; he’ll win her all kinds of prizes in a couple years. She seems pretty content to just look around at all the shiny lights tonight, in all her 9-month-old wisdom. Sonny can’t help but smile. He’s pretty content tonight, too.

He reaches out to squeeze Barba’s hand right as Bella stops suddenly in front of him. He rolls his eyes and steps to the side before running into her.

“Tommy! The line’s so short!”

Sonny looks up, seeing the ferris wheel in front of them. Oh no. She’s right, the line is short. It’s never that short during the summer, especially on a Friday night. He really, really hates the ferris wheel.

“Sonny!” She turns and grabs his arm, practically hopping in place. “Will you watch her? Please? You guys can go after us.”

“Oh,” he stammers out, ignoring the chill traveling down his neck. “Yeah, of course we’ll watch her, go ahead. We don’t gotta go after you. I’m gettin’ tired anyway.”

He can feel Barba staring at him, can feel the confused look bearing down on him. Bella just rolls her eyes, laughing at him. “Oh, c’mon Sonny. It’s been years, you can’t still hate these things!”

“Just go already, will ya?” He shoves her shoulder towards the ride, reaching down to hold the stroller’s handle as his other hand wipes away the sweat beading on his temple.

They’re stepping onto the ride when Barba moves closer against him, hand settling on his lower back. Sonny leans into him.

“What, you don’t wanna see the sights with me?” Barba teases, voice light but there’s an edge there, Sonny can hear it. It makes the sweat start to gather on his forehead again.

“Nah,” he tries to laugh it off, but it feels strained in his throat. “It’s not that.”

“Oh,” Barba says, clearly willing to drop it at that, even though he hasn’t stepped away or quit moving his thumb in that stupid calming way on Sonny’s back.

“It’s just, ah–” Boy, he feels stupid right now. He scratches at his cheek, a nervous tic he never quite shook. It used to bother his father so much. “It’s the looking down thing I don’t like. Looking down at the ground, from up there. I, uh. I really don’t like heights, I guess.”

He thinks of all the 20-story buildings he’s been in, running up endless flights of stairs and busting through rooftop doors chasing someone down. He doesn’t have time to think about it, there. He doesn’t go near the edges there, either. He tries not to think of the one suicide he’s had to talk down, legs shaking with every step he took towards the guy; the moment he’d crumbled and backed away from the edge, Sonny swallowed all his fear and lunged forward to grab his coat, hauling them both backwards. After Sonny handed the guy off to the EMT, he’d collapsed in his squad car, sitting in the passenger seat with his head between his knees, willing his heart to slow down enough to atleast let him catch his breath. He can feel his throat getting tight just remembering the incident.

“Hey,” Barba says, covering Sonny’s hand with his own on the stroller. “We don’t have to, it’s fine.”

Sonny looks at Barba and smiles, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He lingers there, smiling again, feeling stubble against his lips.

“I didn’t even know it was possible for people as tall as you to be afraid of heights,” Barba says, laughing in Sonny’s ear, hand shifting from Sonny’s back to gently grip his waist.

Sonny can’t help but laugh back, eyes squeezing shut as he grins and tucks his forehead against Barba’s neck. He leans into him, relishing in the warmth of Barba’s skin, letting it calm him.

“Thank you,” he finally whispers when both their laughter has subsided; he kisses Barba’s neck once, twice, feeling like he could stay like this forever.


End file.
